


no wrist for the wicked

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other, pointless unedited smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:44:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme prompt:<br/>Requirement: Abbadon, masturbation. <br/>She uses her own detached hand to finger herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	no wrist for the wicked

It's been a long time. She can't even be bothered to put her hands back on.   
  
There's relief in her eyes as the right one clambers down her stomach and digs its way under the shirt, fingers splayed across the abdomen, idly drumming upon muscles until they grow taunt.  
  
Bloody 1958, half a technical decade of an unsettled vice, and here she sits, feeling the sting of nails on her hiss of annoyance. She considers taking the time to collect more blood - call up good, sweet, corrupted things who'd gamble away their existences for a chance as a bed-notch.   
  
The thumb gently slices downwards past the bellybutton and digs in. She reconsiders.  
  
The left hand jumps, straight drop from the shoulder, and latches onto her breast. It holds itself there softly, swivels 360 degrees, probing for sensitivity, and then pinches the nipple roughly and hangs from it. Her head jerks backwards, neck bleeding again.  
  
The resulting choking noises make her giggle.   
  
She wishes for a kiss, someone sucking at the thick vein at her neck, remove more of the bullet that's already gone.  
  
She exhales, a ragged breath, and feels the right hand palm its way across the lap and pelvis, slowly sliding downwards towards a moist, wet spot. She hisses again, gasping. Her thighs move outwards. There's a brief brush over the hollow of her hip, earning a shiver when the fingers press in. It hovers over the clit, fingertips slowly circling the lips, and squeezes so that the middle finger rubs inside slightly.  
  
The left hand falls, lands on top of the right, and tickles the pectineus over a sudden contraction. She lets it tease beneath the hood of her clitoris, while the right fore and middle fingers ease their way through the entrance, expanding out to a v shape. The subtle stretch leaves her aching. She squirms and encourages quicker thrusts.   
  
The left fingers slither closer to her slick bud, faintly scratching on the nail edges. The right fingers close in, light taps against the vaginal wall in twisting shifts. It forces more rough gasps, and an arch in her spine. She makes the left hand spin in big circles that shrink and regrow, randomly switching from clockwise to anti clockwise to reach every spot on the folds.   
  
Her hips buck and the circular motions over the clitoral hood grow jerkier. There's an insistent rhythm now, and both her hands, though detached, respond instinctively.   
  
She tastes her own blood through her teeth, bubbling through the trachea, and jolts of pleasure run static through her skull, blinding and bending her back further, body coiling forward to drive her fingers deeper. There's a clench of tension that skitters into the pit of her belly, pressing unbearably between the legs. It spasms across her skin, spark of sensation soaking hot into the very bones. She lets it churn into her guts and pulls in her ankles, speeds up the fingers until she's completely spent.   
  
There’s a stretched out beat. Her heart, long dead, almost stomps.   
  
She falls limp, backwards, watches the rigidity leave, pulls out the fingers, knuckles glistening, dragging out echoes of release. Both hands crawl up the abdomen, backwards, wrists pointed to the stumps. She lowers her arms and waits for the flesh to mend while the aftershocks tremble through her.   
  
It's brilliant, how her own thoughts are so much clearer now.  
  
There's only hell to attend.


End file.
